To Another Day
by jegheterkai
Summary: Set after Regina absorbs the death curse in 2x09. Eventual SwanQueen.
1. Chapter 1

"I should be going."

Emma watched as the faint scent of spiced apples that accompanied familiar chestnut-hued tresses made its slow descent back into the darkness of cemented pavements and tarred streets. Hands tucked into the comforting warmth of a tribal-patterned woolen sweater, Emma spun, unaware of the worry lines that marred her smooth features.

There was something about the conversation between the two women that pricked at the corners of her mind - the depths untainted by the relentless optimism and oblivion of Snow. There was an apology, and something else. Something that seemed very much like a wordless plea from brown to green eyes. Something that tugged at the jagged edges of Emma's heart, threatening to infuse it with a deep melancholy. It was unfitting of the Evil Queen that everyone knew and feared.

"Emma! I've been looking all over for you!"

"Mary Mar… I mean, Snow… I mean, um, Mom," Emma spluttered out, the maternal title stinging on the tip of her tongue, unnatural and foreign. Despite Snow's attempts at pretending they have been a family all along, Emma knew that twenty-eight years of abandonment was not something she could just forget with a few glances at doe eyes and expressions of perfect promises.

_Oh shit._

She felt like a lost girl. Always has. Probably always will.

"Is everything all right, Emma?" Snow whispered, eyes narrowed in confusion at the blonde shuffling uneasily in front of her.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Let's go back in." Offering up a practiced smile to the pixie-haired woman, fine-tuned from years spent under the watchful gazes of mercenary foster parents who neither cared nor loved, she hastily made her way back towards the sound of chatter and merriment.

_Deep breaths._

* * *

It was quiet down at 108 Mifflin Street. Not that noise ever was a frequent visitor of the mayoral mansion. This night though, as the denizens of Storybrooke celebrated the return of their revered Savior and beloved Snow, the silence felt heavy. Silence laden with the cruel burden of desolation, of regret, and though she would never admit this out loud in front of a predatory audience, of fear.

_This is it. After all these years, after Henry, after everything that has happened. This is the end. _

Chocolate eyes burned and burned with the tears that threatened to spill over delicate lashes, like an aged dam that was cracked but not yet broken, like a ceramic teacup that was chipped but not yet shattered.

_Deep breaths. _

Scenes of the past couple of hours whirred through the throes of Regina's mind, whirling, morphing from scene to scene, some more vivid than others.

_Mr Gold. A death curse. The fear of Cora emerging from the well, destroying everything in her sight. Henry talking. Henry running up to the well. Henry begging, voice trembling under the sheer weight of his plea for her to do the right thing. Stepping tentatively up to the well, arms outstretched. Absorbing the curse. Feeling the green swirls ignite her cells, nestling there, enveloping her heart, draining the life out of her one breath at a time. _

_Pain. Searing, agonizing pain. Emma emerging from the well. Emma safe. Emma._

She gasped as she felt the jolt jerking her harshly out of her thoughts. The first of many, the mildest of many. Shaking her head, she willed for the blessing of sleep to be bestowed upon her. Sleep was an escape, albeit a temporary one. That, she was familiar with.

As she laid there, cradled by the darkness, she allowed a mirthless laughter to seep out from red lips. _The downfall of the Evil Queen. What a celebration that will be._

* * *

"No. No… Isabel, don't go. No. Please… I…" The words muttered in the night away from prying ears and inquisitive eyes. Blonde curls fanned out across crisp linen sheets dotted with salted tears of nightmares from days long past. Emma clenched fistfuls of duvet in clammy palms, allowing herself to fall, fall, fall into memories that spewed forth in deep slumber.

_She was twenty again, crouched on scratched hardwood floors over pale freckled skin and auburn hair. A tangle of fragile limbs and knitted pullovers lay trembling across her lap, staccato breaths mingling and spilling across cracked pink lips. _

"_Emma, I'm… I'm sorry." Isabel whispered, ragged and quivering. _

"_I'm here, Bel. I'm here. It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Stay with me, please?" Emma breathed out, fighting to steady her words, to offer gentle assurances despite the gut-wrenching panic that encompassed her mind. _

_A plastic bottle lay discarded an arm's length away, stray pills strewn about the floor. It was a collection of sleep casually packaged into little white capsules - addictive in reliance, lethal in great quantities. _

_Emerald eyes locked onto ocean blue ones. Her vision skewed and blurred from the incessant stream of tears streaming down pallid cheeks, but it was then that she saw clarity in blue. It wasn't about the ingested pills, nor was it about the multitude of injustices that plagued the world. It wasn't about revenge or despair, or even a warped hope that things would be better in the world after this one. _

_Emma saw instead, in that very moment, a silent request - for acceptance, for forgiveness. Above all, Emma saw that lingering appeal in the gaze that held the knowledge of an impending end - the wish that perhaps for once in her entire life, she wouldn't have to be alone. _

She shook as silent sobs coursed through her body in the solitude of her room, unsure as to the exact moment when nightmares turned into recollections. Images of ocean eyes spun through her mind, clouding out the organized fiasco that was her moon-lit room.

_Deep breaths. _

Emma blinked and blinked, battling to focus on the room in front of her.

_Deep breaths. _

Ocean eyes darkened, slowly, then all at once. Still, the message was the very same; a yearning for understanding, for redemption, for someone to be there until the very end. A yearning that was excruciatingly present in familiar chocolate eyes.

"Regina."


	2. Chapter 2

Silken sheets caressed velvety olive skin, a feeble substitute for comfort in the solitude of a majestic queen-sized bed. Short, brunette locks framed beguiling features in the faint moonlight that seeped through grey drapes, a luxurious barrier from the mediocrity of the outside world. Dreams and coruscating recollections, swirling, swirling, swirling.

_She was standing in brilliant fields of gold. Birds chirping high atop sturdy tree branches, slight hints of zephyr breathing on the otherwise dead grassland, golden rays of sunshine creeping up on all the living things. They were sitting cross-legged on checked picnic mats, trying so desperately to lay out the food in the correct places only to have the nastiest of crows nick the prized and tastiest sandwiches. _

_He emanated warmth, with eyes of hazel that just seemed to look straight into the depths of her soul. She lived out her entire life as a guarded girl, an impenetrable fortress. And yet, for the first time in her eighteen years, here was a man who possessed the power to effortlessly tear them all down, brick after brick. The breeze of the morning tangled through her flowing chestnut tresses, and along with each breath of the earth, along with each grunt of the horses parked nearby, she smiled the most genuine of smiles. _

"Daniel." The heartbreak in her voice unmistakable even in sleep.

_It was years after his death that she found herself revisiting that very field again. The scenery lay unchanged even after so many years. She knew though, that things were different, distinctively so. She was different. _

"_Then love again." His words reverberated through her mind. It felt like words spoken centuries ago - distant, haunting, a gentle plea for her to find happiness again. Someday._

_She looked down, and with an intake of breath, she saw tiny beaded dewdrops congregating at the tip of pointed leaves, finally accumulating a substantial enough amount for it to cascade down like clear marbles towards the earth. _

_Maybe it was nature's way of crying, she thought._

* * *

"Regina."

The name felt heavy on her tongue, like a word of sin whispered under feathered quilts away from the chaste light of day. With just the slightest tinge of hesitation, Emma stood up, walking over to birch wood drawers in search of her customary white tank top and skin-tight denim. Grabbing a time-worn red leather jacket, she made her way down wired steps, footsteps seemingly thunderous in the dead of lonesome nights.

Delicate fingers pulled pliable leather tightly against her lean body, an instinctual reaction from the harsh Maine chill whipping around her. Contradictory waves of gratitude and regret gushed through her bones, remnant of her earlier debate as to whether to make the journey in her yellow bug or on foot. As the opulent mayoral mansion stood just a few blocks away, Emma began to appreciate the uncanny prudence present in her gut-instincts.

Planning was not a strong suit of hers, and here beneath the watchful scrutiny of sneering street lamps, that fact never did seem more apparent.

_Regina is a private person, more so than anyone she has ever known. Perhaps, well, perhaps herself. _

Teeth sunk into soft, pink lips as Emma slowed her stride in silent contemplation. Here, she was about to confront a woman who greeted everyone with anything ranging from distant civility to outright hostility. A woman who valued privacy and dignity above all else. A woman who was, despite every thing that has happened, an Evil Queen. That very last thought had the blonde stumbling in her paces outside the immaculate hedges of 108 Mifflin Street.

_Deep breaths. _

Their relationship was no longer antagonistic. That, Emma was certain. But she knew, with a sinking feeling that was both unexplainable and foreign, that they still had a distance to go before they could safely refer to each other as compadres.

_This is never going to work. _

With that notion, Emma shrugged her shoulders, turning around and making that slow trek back to her bedroom - a place where jumbled musings ran wild. Little did she notice the curious gaze of chocolate on her retreating back.

* * *

"Your usual?"

"Yeah, Ruby, thanks." Emma replied, offering up a tight-lipped smile, slightly enervated from a sleepless night. It was then that she glanced upon a familiar brunette clad in a teal silk blouse and designer suit. Try as she might, she was unable to suppress the perturb fluttering through her stomach. It was an astounding potpourri of emotions - of barely subdued curiosity, of a subtle sense of foreboding, of indescribable sadness, of, and this sent shock coursing through her nerves, a desire to reach out and hold a petite former Evil Queen in her arms.

Emma stared mesmerized, watching chocolate orbs lose their way in distant worlds unreachable by anyone else. Seconds melted into minutes, and soon enough, emerald ones embarked on a similar retreat into secluded sanctuaries that housed demons, angels, and ghosts of faraway memories.

_She remembered the geometrical silhouette of tiles, and the way the harsh white paint flaked at the edges of jagged walls. Unremitting spotlights pounded harrowingly on clinical white sheets, like stinging whips on creamy flesh. Doctors, nurses, prison guards. There were so many of them she could hardly count through the pain. Not that she bothered, given the circumstances. Then, in the midst of the chaos, she heard his cry. It was a startling and breathtaking, shockingly physical and ethereal, all at the same time. _

_Agonizing tears spilled from clenched eyes as she forced herself to look away from her newborn son. It was the most torturous decision she ever had to make in her lifetime, and yet, she knew it was one that had to be made. She wanted to give him his best chance, a chance she could not provide in the confines of grim walls and steel bars. _

"Henry." The whisper escaped from pressed lips.

Almost as if spurred on by the subconscious command of a spell, Emma glanced up, emerald eyes locking onto dark chocolate ones. Surveying, searching, lingering.

* * *

"Miss Swan, I expect the missing paperwork to be on my desk in an hour's time. No exceptions."

Regina's dulcet tones glided through the handset of the Sheriff's office, blemished only slightly by the static sounds of technology. Venom was glaringly absent in the concise message, unnoticed by Emma whose mind was now spinning with the mountain of paperwork left undone.

With a guttural groan, the blonde unceremoniously shoved the half-eaten bear claw back into a previously discarded brown paper bag. Shutting her eyes briefly to reign in wayward thoughts, Emma picked up the nearest indigo ballpoint pen and began scribbling, scribbling, scribbling away.

* * *

_Life goes on. Find strength in normalcy. Life goes on. _

Chocolate eyes scanned the clock perched unvaryingly on an impeccably constructed marble desk. 15:05. Lips pursed at the Sheriff's blatant tardiness, Regina reached out towards her mobile, fully prepared to give the blonde a snarky tongue-lashing with regards to the dismal state of her work, or lack thereof. Before she had the chance to enter digits she was so well acquainted with, a sharp knock on glass doors had her slender fingers halting in their movements.

"You're late, Miss Swan."

"Come on, Regina, I got here as soon as I could."

"Very well, place it on my desk and be on your way. Perhaps in future you could do our taxpayers justice and actually do the job you're paid to do. Without prompt."

"Regina, I…" Emma began tentatively.

It was at that precise point in time that emerald orbs widened in accordance to chocolate ones. Residual magic flitting through Regina's veins cackled, congealing into a singular, striking green gash that ripped up the olive-toned skin of trembling forearms. A gasp escaped from plush lips, resonating through air pockets and pricked ears.

Regina felt the intricate web of capillaries nestling in her palms constrict, forcing blood further into her rigid torso in the sheer hopes of fueling crucial organs. The shivering came on violently and with savage intensity, a desperate attempt to generate warmth, to conjure feeling in fingers rapidly losing all semblance of accustomed sensations. Icy surges of torment throbbed and throbbed at her core, leaving her struggling and battling for life-sustaining breaths. And just when she thought she could no longer endure them, they subsided, as quickly as they started.

The brunette flexed her fingers, regaining the natural feel of them with each minute movement. Only then did she become painfully aware of the strong hands that circled her biceps, clutching her in a vice-like grip that provided the perfect accompaniment to startled eyes laced with unmistakable concern. It was the immense magnitude of concern in emerald that confounded her, that threatened to steal her breath once more, albeit for completely different reasons.

"You can let go now, Miss Swan." Regina breathed out, fighting to steady her voice.

"But… Regina… what the hell was that? Are you, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Miss Swan. Now if you could find your way out of my office, so we can both get back to our jobs."

Conflict burned within the blonde, the finality in those words concrete and menacing. She stalled, racking the hallways of her mind for answers, for pre-known tutorials on what to do and how to act in situations such as the one she was faced with.

_Deep breaths. _

"I will not repeat myself. Out of my office. Now."

And with that, Regina watched as red leather made its way towards glass doors, hesitating right at the entrance. There was a swivel of blonde curls as emerald locked onto chocolate, electric gazes screaming out questions unspoken. Emma noticed the faux composure honed from years on the throne, the way brown eyes hardened with each passing moment, thrusting all evidence of fear from public view. A fear, she knew, was present in her own eyes as well.

Emma watched as the briefest signs of an internal dispute dissipated within the older woman, and she knew then, that this was a conversation for another time and place. Spinning around, she latched clammy palms onto brass handles, and made her exit into pristine marble hallways. But not before she heard the soft words, simple, yet holding the crushing weight of dolefulness.

"Goodbye Miss Swan."


	3. Chapter 3

Regina stood elegantly on the burgundy steps of 108 Mifflin Street, clad in a jet black double-breasted dress that accentuated the subtle dips and rises of her dainty frame, brown tresses coiffed to within an inch of perfection. The crisp breeze of the early hours weaved through uniformly trimmed hedges, the first light of day arousing the residents of Storybrooke from gentle slumber. It was a morning like any other. And as it always was, the brunette was up and about, ready to execute her mayoral obligations for the day.

_Deep breaths._

A step, a second, a third, and then it struck her, with all the force of a speeding train. A groan emitted from crimson lips as every last trace of oxygen was mercilessly slammed out from contracting lungs. The air surrounding her felt thick, solidifying with each passing moment, sandwiching her from all sides with the brutality and might of a madman on a rampage. Shaking hands reached out to grip the nearest stout white column. It was a desperate attempt at regaining a poise befitting the Queen she once was in a cruel land portals away. It was a frenzied battle for dignity, for a staunch portrayal of fortitude, for a dangerous control she once vowed never to relinquish ever again.

She should have known better.

The human body was simply not built to handle such colossal degrees of agony. Red morphed into blue which in turn spiraled into a blinding green that shot through tensed limbs. Regina felt frangible kneecaps collide on brick with a sickly thud, the pain a mere tap in the midst of the bone-crushing pressure compressing her from angles both natural and otherwise. Chestnut locks became plastered to skin slick with sweat as she forced herself to inhale. Once, twice, thrice. The cool dayspring air scorched through her nostrils, unbearable and torturous, but life sustaining nonetheless.

"I've got you, Regina."

The voice was tight and laced with blatant apprehension, but its source was unmistakable. The brunette's brows slackened, rearranging itself into a furrow almost instantaneously as waves of comfort washed over her. Here in Emma's arms, she thought, there was safety. It was a notion that was both thrilling and disconcerting, it was one that had her rapidly recoiling from the firm grasp of the blonde beside her.

"I don't need your assistance, Miss Swan." Regina choked out, loathing the tremor that raked her vocal chords.

"What the hell is wrong with you. As stupid as you think I am, even I know that something is up. Now is not the time to act like a goddamn Queen. I can help. Let me help, Regina."

Stiffening her spine, the brunette hardened her gaze, willing dark chocolate orbs to convey the same obduracy as words uttered only moments prior. Locked onto emerald ones though, she instantly realized that the pesky blonde in front of her was the one person out there that matched her in stubbornness. Regina breathed a weak sigh, as unbridled exhaustion washed over bones quivering from the aftershocks of the onslaught, like starved soldiers drained from days spent in arduous combat. It was with that single sigh that had the blonde tightening her grip on the delicate woman in her arms.

"Let's at least get you a glass of water inside."

So focused on steadying her steps as she allowed herself to be led through the impeccable foyer of her mansion, Regina failed to notice the sheer astonishment painted on the pale features of the blonde.

* * *

_This isn't the Regina she knew. That Regina would never have let her into her house. That Regina would never have even contemplated allowing her to sit beside her at the granite island situated in the middle of her spotless kitchen. That Regina who was beautiful even in the throes of fury. This Regina was breathtaking, still, and… Oh god. _

Emma felt the tendrils of a blossoming flush creep up the nape of her neck, settling into a pretty burgeoning across lightly-freckled cheeks. She glanced up, thoroughly relieved at the brunette's apparent absorption in her very own thoughts. It was a relief that instantly vanished upon close scrutiny of the older woman. Her job as a bounty-hunter had imparted several unique skill-sets upon her, one of which included the distinct ability to read and perhaps make fairly accurate deductions with regards to the body language and expressions of those that crossed her path.

It was slight, but present under that obstinate regal demeanor. Emma noticed the subtle winces, the momentary clenching of teeth, the light ripples of muscle on olive forearms as Regina grasped the glass in front of her. Taking several breaths to calm her pulsating heart beneath sturdy ribcages, the blonde asked the timeworn question, wholly determined to pry that elusive answer out of the brunette, come what may.

"Please, Regina. Tell me, what's wrong?"

Emma's tone was soft, and to her immense surprise, Regina heard the gentle plea is those eight syllables. It was the unrestrained sincerity in emerald, though, that had her mind slipping into deep contemplation. Quiet, yet tumultuous, contemplation.

_Here, seated in front of her, was the birth mother of her son, Henry. She was the woman who barged unceremoniously into her intricately constructed town, opting to linger around despite her repeated attempts at chasing her away. She was the woman her son preferred, completely disregarding and downplaying the eleven years she spent painstakingly raising a growing boy. She was the woman her son chose to love. _

Reasons and explanations began formulating in the depths of her mind, each a harrowing reminder of the callousness in people, each a severe warning that people are intrinsically inclined towards their own selfish causes.

_Yes, that was it. _

Regina's posture rigidified, the demons in her mind thunderously exclaiming that should she decide to open up to Emma, the blonde's sole course of action would be to offer words of faux sympathy, followed by embarking on a repugnant mental celebration at her finally being able to possess sole custody of Henry. The mere thought of it pierced through her heart, forcing her to battle both bile and tears threatening to expel itself from her trembling body. Schadenfreude seemed to be a common thread in this case. It wouldn't be the first of such an occurrence, she mused.

_She was eighteen again, having just toed the fine, yet concretely present line, into womanhood. It was after Daniel's brutal murder at the hands of her own mother that she learnt of the tragic ways of the world. _

_She learnt of the maleficent methods of persistent maladies, the way it flourishes in her thoughts in the dark of the night, the way it consumes every ounce of happiness she had. It was an illness that made physical pain seem like no more than the prick of a needle. She learnt of the best ways to stomach abominable waking hours, the nauseating moments filled with arrant dread whenever her husband, the King, was scheduled for a visit. She learnt that there was nothing worse than waking up after a night of marital assault, only to have Snow beaming up at her in full oblivion. _

"_I'm finally glad I have a new mother. We'll be so happy together."_

Those were the words that plagued her nightmares, when sleep became nothing more than a sad escape from one desolate world into another. The demons in her mind buzzed, puffed up from years of dominance. And yet, as she looked up at the blonde in front of her, fully prepared to offer one of her customary insults, the demons were silenced. For the first time since they made their way into the Queen's head in what seemed like lifetimes ago.

* * *

Emma stared at the brunette, eyes distant as she watched her enter the realm of her thoughts. There was the familiar traces of anger, and with a sinking realization, she saw the sadness that flitted through chocolate. Hidden, but existent, like shy fragments of stars peeking out the empty black skies that bedeviled her through lonely nights. She saw the struggle encompassing the petite woman, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from reaching out and encircling that woman in her arms, protecting her not just from the horrors of the world, but from herself as well.

Growing up in the foster system, Emma understood that there was a wretchedness in the world; a wretchedness that gracefully evaded the ones who had always known naught but love and kindness. She remembered the glassy eyes of children sent back to the group home time and time again, abandoned by the ones who were supposed to show them that happy endings did actually exist. She remembered the scars unseen on beige flesh brought on by the malicious bites of rejection. She remembered looking into the mirror one day, appalled by gaunt features that typically belonged to someone far surpassing her in years.

_She was eight or nine, the youngest of four, in the foster home she resided in. Growing up, she had always gravitated towards the comforts of solitude, preferring to spend her days cooped up in the confines of the room she shared with two older foster sisters. As it always was, and perhaps always will be, children who were different tended to be forced to bear the brunt of anything from light teasing to outrightly hostile bullying. _

_The verbal insults were sadistic and incessant. "Trash." "Worthless little girl." "Nobody could ever want you." Those were just words. The first few utterances tore through her little being, ripping sobs from innocent throats, conclusive affirmation of her personal views of herself. Gradually, alongside the construction of walls, the words slid across her ears as she began to adopt a front of jadedness. _

_It was then that the beatings started. Three on one. They kicked her until her stomach bloomed sea foam green and arsenic flowers, in the most accurate emulation of the thoughts swirling through her despairing mind. At first, she opted for silence, finding solace in the one element that had served her well all those years. Eventually, barely able to stand from one particularly savage beating, she approached her foster mother, wary, yet so naively hopeful. _

"_You probably did something to provoke them."_

Those were the words that preceded her weeks of lockdown in the storeroom. When her wounds healed, when the bruises receded once more into creamy flesh, she was sent back. She should have known.

_"Maybe love isn't meant for everyone. Especially someone like me."_

It was then, as if lured by the sheer magnetism of two people who wielded magic, chocolate eyes locked onto emerald. It was startling and frightful, wondrous and unexpected, all at once. It was like looking straight into rounded orbs, wholly possessive of the knowledge that despite the dissimilarities in their respective situations, they were more alike than they had ever thought possible. The magnitude of that awareness rendered both woman speechless, neither noticing the fine wisps of purple and white seeping out from slender fingertips, mingling for the most minute of seconds in the space between them.

"I don't have much time left."

Her voice was barely audible, and yet, Emma heard it with rumbling clarity. A million questions swarmed through her mind, but with all the control she could muster, she reigned it in, deciding that it would be prudent to give the brunette time to collect her thoughts. The stillness in the air reeked of danger, each breath suppressed, almost as if either were afraid to trigger the ticking time-bomb that manifested itself in webbed minds and palatial hearts.

It was Regina who sliced through the quiet. She spoke of Mr Gold's idea to lay a precautionary death curse. She spoke of the sense of foreboding that Cora would win the battle in the Enchanted Forest, and the devastation there would be should she arrive in Storybrooke. She spoke of Henry, of how he believed that good would emerge victorious. She spoke of the way the death curse that once swirled over an abandoned well now swirled through her veins, a death curse that will eventually be her release from this world.

Emma stared agape, the entirety of the situation finally dawning upon her.

"Don't you have magic? There's got to be another way, there's got to be…"

"Emma, look after Henry for me when I'm gone." The words were soft, barely a whisper.

"But, what am I going to tell Henry?"

Silence. Seconds fused into minutes into swirling moments that held no concept of time. The world resumed its rotation about its axis, altering the angles by which the sunlight shone through white grilled windows, heating up and cooling down, a gentle push and pull of states of being. Neither woman noticed as darkness enveloped their bodies, lost in thought, lost in a myriad of emotions, lost in the realms of possibilities.

Regina's tentative fingers slid across the granite, latching on to the quivering ones of the blonde before her. What she said next jabbed at Emma's heart, shredding any semblance of wholeness into tiny, broken fragments. The blonde thought she knew what the epitome of pain was when Cora reached into her chest, but this? This was both unannounced and the most excruciating of pain ever imaginable.

"I know he's with Neal in New York at the moment, so he won't be here when the curse finally takes my life. Find him there. He has no fault in this, but nonetheless, I know my son. I know that he will take it upon himself to shoulder some of the blame for what has happened. So what I will do, is give you potions, potions that will make the both of you forget about this curse, about everything that has happened, about me. You can have the life you have always wanted. The both of you."

There was finality in the tone. And as chocolate eyes once again found emerald ones, both orbs puffy from mental trials and tribulations of the past couple of hours, Regina knew with absolute lucidity that it was the right decision to make.

"What about you, Regina?"

Emma fought to steel her voice, fearful of what the brunette would say. This strange, beautiful brunette that seemed so foreign and yet so familiar to her. It was then that Regina stood, making her way up wooden steps, a regal ascend to her bedroom where she knew sleep would elude her, once again.

"No one will miss me, after all the evil I've done."


	4. Chapter 4

"_No one will miss me, after all the evil I've done."_

The words resonated through Emma's head, bouncing off cream colored walls in soft whispers that barely broke through the quiet of the night. She lay still atop light blue sheets, once again lost to the swirls that plagued her mind in the form of relentlessly enveloping sadness and memories of days long past. The thought of Regina straddling the line between worlds immobilized her, bringing forth unconstrained tears that stained cheeks and pooled in the hollows of her neck.

"It can't actually be happening."

Even then, she knew that verbalizing it was naught more than a futile attempt at self-deception, a childish plea murmured in the dark for someone, anyone, to awaken her from this tormenting nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, right? Regina was, without a smidgin of doubt, the most resilient woman she knew of. She lived through torture of the most devastating kind, found it in steeled bones to push through the most agonizing of heartbreaks, trudged through the swamps of emotions that raged harshly through chilled veins, fiery and destructive. Surely she could fight this, right?

"_Henry. Do you love him?" _

_Emerald eyes bored into chocolate ones, seeking out gospel truths in immaculate suits and impeccably coiffed locks. _

"_Of course I love him."_

Emma recalled the doubts that echoed through the entirety of her being at those five words. It was that very doubt that rooted her in Storybrooke, compelling her to take the brunette mayor as her first nemesis in this fairytale town. Maybe it was the tragic after-effects of the life she had growing up - the unremitting fear of abandonment, the sinking notion that someone like her was unworthy of love, the abuse that she endured and inflicted inwards behind closed doors and closed hearts. Here was her son, the boy she gave up all those long, forlorn years ago. She vowed never to let him go through the pain embedded so deeply in the throes of her mind.

And then there was that talk with the town therapist, Dr Archie Hopper, at the diner.

"_Do you think she would ever hurt him?" Emma asked, fearful of Henry's safety whilst he was in the care of Regina. _

"_No, never. Maybe everyone else, but not him." _

The answer was instantaneous and resolute, not a hint of lie to be found in the bespectacled eyes of one former cricket. Thinking back, Emma chided herself for even entertaining that mere thought. Sure, she believed it to be true when she first set foot in Storybrooke. But knowing all she did now, knowing Regina, she knew that it would be preposterous to even think that Regina could deliberately upset Henry, let alone bring harm upon him.

More frequently than she cared for, she had seen the devastating wounds of rejection flash through chocolate at something the younger boy said or did. The miens were often fleeting, but there were times when typically hard eyes would soften, morphing into something deeper, something darker - something that housed a destructively poetic kind of sorrow that was buried barely a hair's breadth beneath the surface.

It was in those moments, staring unabashedly into chocolate, that Emma realized just how much she wished there was someone - herself specifically - that could pull the stubborn Queen out of the whirlpool of desolation she had become so accustomed to. Nobody deserved to deal with such an immense degree of sadness alone, she thought, especially not the woman she had come to care so deeply about. But it was more than just a platonic kind of care for the adoptive mother of her son, wasn't it?

_The Savior and the Evil Queen. What a tale that would be. _

Emma's mind spun with the visualization of the unlikely coupling. Everyone would scoff brazenly at the idea of the blonde and the brunette being together, especially her parents, vexatiously ignorant that there would be anyone who did not fit perfectly into classifications of good or evil. Perhaps though, she mused, that was just another reason that caused her to be so inclined towards the older woman. With Regina, she could shed the burden of being the Savior, the quintessential daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, the hero that had come to save Storybrooke from the implacable forces of evil.

With Regina, she could be just Emma. And she thought, with a surging hope in her veins that was foreign yet welcomed, that just Emma might be enough for one former Queen. With any luck. All her life, she had made the less than delightful acquaintance with inadequacy, opting to push before she could be pushed away. She was a lone wolf, a flight risk, a seed that allowed itself to be carried by the zephyr before roots were planted. Here in Storybrooke, she finally felt at home.

_And it isn't just because of Henry. _

A graceful step, then a second, then a third, one after another. Slender fingers curled around the cold metal of a steel grey doorknob, twisting slightly, shoving inwards. Emerald eyes locked onto the delicate form of the brunette sitting regally on the mattress, apparently kept awake by demons, trepidations, and an entire array of emotions and thoughts that hounded preoccupied minds and overworked hearts.

"Hi."

* * *

Chocolate eyes flicked to emerald ones, widening significantly at the intrusion - unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.

"Emma, what do you want this time?"

"The Anderson's. That was the last foster family I was placed with." Emma spoke, voice infused with conviction at the sight of the beautiful brunette sitting in front of her. "The dad was a drunkard; he hardly went to work, choosing to spend most of his days at the pub instead. The mom looked just like a typical soccer mom - the kind that brought her kids to school and loved them the way parents should. But she wasn't. Not behind closed doors, at least."

"Why are you…" Regina began tentatively, only to be halted in her words as the blonde pressed on, more forcefully than before.

"Every day after school I had to rush straight home, and get to work in the diner that her father owned. It was one of those 24-hour places, and I was assigned to dishwashing duty from the moment school ended till about four in the morning, leaving me with three hours of sleep each night. At the start, I coped by sneaking naps between classes and whatnot. Soon I became so tired, and I couldn't even sleep through classes by then because the teachers were starting to ask questions."

She took a deep breath, trudging on with the tale that remained untold for so many years.

"One day, I was so exhausted I fell asleep on the park bench after school ended, missing my shift completely. When I got home, my foster mother was furious. I pleaded with her, told her I was sorry, but all she did was took a belt and began hitting me with it, continuing on and on until there were welts on my back. I didn't fight back and I think she took that as a sign, you know? The beatings became more frequent, more vicious, and soon she began to deny me food whenever I disobeyed as well."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Regina queried, trembling voice laced with the subtle hints of anger and a compounding guilt that shone in the forefront of her mind.

"It wasn't that simple. Kids like me, growing up the way we did and stuff, knew that any family would be better than none. Even if we were nothing more than a paycheck to them, even if they used and abused us, even if they never even gave us a semblance of love."

Emma felt the impending onslaught of tears, the stinging sensation that buzzed through clenched eyelids and threatened the rigidity of her tensed spine. She dug nibbled fingernails into fleshy palms, willing herself to say what she desperately knew Regina needed to hear.

_Deep breaths. _

"Anyway," she continued before Regina could interrupt her monologue, "I started to harbor a lot of anger inside me. Anger at them, for the abuse; at the system, for pushing me time and time again into the arms of completely shit families; and at myself, for letting them do that to me, for accepting the abuse because I thought I couldn't get anything better. All I wanted was to shove all my pent up hatred and fury into revenge, to make them pay for the wounds I had to hide. It was all I could think of. But I didn't know how, at least not when I was so consumed with the fear of being sent back again."

Hearing the words uttered in the stilly night by the blonde, Regina felt that increasingly familiar pang blossoming deep within her ribcage with the sheer magnitude of guilt she was beginning to feel. Granted, she was wholly aware that it was Snow's decision to ship Emma off to this world when she was naught more than a bundled infant - all in an eleventh-hour bid to save themselves. Nevertheless, she was just as culpable for the plight of the beauteous Sheriff stood a paltry few feet away from her.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

Quiet words breathed out from plump red lips graced the air that separated them, before dissipating into the gentle darkness lightly decorated with the sashes of moonlight flitting through willowy curtain gaps.

"Regina, I'm no stranger to anger and pain. And yes, I didn't do the things you did in a bid for revenge, but I understand this. When you spend so long in the company of anger, of darkness, you begin to feel comfortable with it. You love it, because it loves you back. It helps you get through the days, it gives you a reason to keep fighting, it gives you the illusion that you are in control. But at the end of the day, the darkness isn't your friend, it's your enemy. It devours you, consuming every bit of your being like a drug that you've become addicted to."

_Deep breaths. _

"What I'm trying to say here is, you may have done evil things, but you're not evil. Evil isn't born, it's made. Putting you in a box labelled evil and leaving it at that is an insanely childish notion. I've met your mother, and I don't know the exact details, but I don't have to. It's fucked up in that world, and it doesn't take a genius to put together the pieces and guess what you had to go through. Underneath the dark curses and all that stuff, there's Regina. And I see her sometimes, and that Regina? That's someone people will miss."

Chocolate eyes locked onto emerald ones, no longer making futile attempts at masking the unbridled surprise that blasted through dark orbs. Throughout the entire course of her reign as Queen, she was accustomed to being categorized as someone who was innately evil. It was a logical conclusion, especially cemented by the fact that the word "evil" frequently preceded her moniker. And yet, here was the daughter of Snow White and Price Charming, two people immutable to the fact that the world was not distinctly black and white, understanding that people lay on a spectrum.

"There was a time when I was free. I can show you if you'd like."

Blonde waves swiveled lightly at the sound of the soft whisper that echoed in the silence. There was a slight ruffling of sheets, and in a move that was both astonishing and unexpectedly wonderful, Regina flipped down the corner of the silken quilt, patting the bed in an invitation for the stunned Sheriff to sit.

"I'm not afflicted with a contagious disease, Miss Swan."

It was the subtle hint of a smile that propelled Emma towards the bed worthy of a Queen. Tucking her legs warmly between fine sheets, she heaved a sign of relief, relishing in the warmth that now sought to encompass her being. Her breath hitched as she felt dainty fingers slide into her own, and with a gasp, images began to flood her mind, vivid and wholly mesmerizing.

_The visions were glorious; a radiant display of a younger Regina frolicking in fields of gold. Light steps, light leaps, light twirls. Flowers adorned her crown - freshly plucked, fragrant, weaved in sun-kissed chestnut brown tresses. Flowers intertwined in the sky blue fibers of her riding coat - brushed on with the faintest of strokes, hued in the most spectacular spectrum of colors imaginable. Flowers in the laughter that danced through the air - strings of melody so effortlessly harmonizing with the breeze that tickled one lovely, untainted moment in time. _

"_Regina, I've brought Rocinante. Thought you would enjoy a ride out in the fields on a day as fine as this one."_

"_Father!"_

_Chocolate eyes shimmered with joy the moment it fell on the golden brown steed striding majestically alongside Henry Senior, an uninhibited grin plastered on delicate features of the young woman. She took a gentle step forward, reaching out to stroke the white stripe that ran down from poll to muzzle. Catching the glint in her father's eyes, Regina swung her legs with practiced agility, mounting the olympian horse that she had come to love. A nod and a smile was all it took before the duo began rocketing off under the blessing of golden rays. And in that moment, even if it was just for one moment, she felt like she was finally free. _

Emma sank further into the comfort of silken quilts, subconsciously inching closer towards the brunette nestled nearby, enthralling images of Regina on horseback galloping, galloping, galloping through meadows gradually fusing into the world of her dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

Regina awoke to a heady warmth that started from the tips of curled fingers, coursing through her nervous system, finally settling in the steady pulsation of a rapidly brightening muscle. She glanced down, noticing the slender fingers of one exquisite blonde lightly intertwined in hers. A blink, a second, a third, and that was all it took before waves upon waves of utter confusion began crashing down onto fragile limbs. The brunette swiftly tugged tangled fingers away from warm ones, immediately blushing inwardly at Emma's less than subtle groan at the loss of contact.

"Emma, why are you still here?"

"Mm?" Groggy emerald eyes struggled with bursts of light that signified a brand new day. A brand new day that started in the startling comfort of Regina's bed.

"Why are you still here in my bed? Does this have anything to do with you being the celebrated White Knight? I bet it's that Charming blood flowing through your veins." The bite and traces of hostility in her tone present even in the early hours of the morning.

"Regina, what the hell are you talking about?"

Both women shuffled under majestic silken quilts, reluctantly propping themselves up against the sturdy headboard in a sitting position. Emma settled herself in a customary slouch, bones creaking under the weight of the events of the previous night. Emerald eyes latched easily onto chocolate ones, narrowing in sheer wonderment at the brunette's ability to sit with such poise and refinement despite the supposedly ungodly time of day.

_Of course, she was a Queen. Probably always will be; it's in her blood. _

"The infamous Charming blood," Regina began bitterly, "full of that self-righteousness that runs within your family, spurring you to uphold justice regardless of what it takes. The same blood that compels you to protect those you deem to be weak or in need of safeguarding. You don't seem to have any desire to persecute me, which leads me to assume that you are here because of some obligatory need to protect me. Am I correct?"

The words slipped out from plush lips in a ragged snarl. Emma could almost see the brunette's defenses slamming forcefully back in place, chocolate eyes coated with doubt towards the blonde's intentions and motives. Suspicion was obviously something she would have to contend with this morning, Emma thought, sinking slightly more into fine sheets.

"Jeez Regina, do you always have to be like this?"

"Like what?"

_Deep breaths._

"Whether you choose to believe it or not, I do care about you Regina." She pressed on, feeling the frustration ebbing slowly away from her. "This isn't about my parents, or your stupid idea that my blood is what forces me to be here. I care about you, and I know it doesn't make any sense to you, but I do. So stop being so damn surprised that I stayed. Like it or not, there are people out there who love you, despite what you like to think."

Tension hung in the thin air between the Sheriff and the Queen, tightly wounded around sharp words that threatened to shred through threads of composure and timeworn masquerades. Regina scoffed, mind spinning with her numerous misdeeds throughout the years - from murder to torture, from dark curses that crossed the lines of humanity to punishments doled out in darkened shadows, from broken minds to ripped out hearts.

"Who could love an Evil Queen? Did you forget for a second who I was, and will forever be? I have no love inside of me. I am practically incapable of love; it's something I have never known to do very well."

Her voice was soft, barely audible despite the quiet of the morning. It was a voice that seemed superficially factual, neutral in its delivery. But Emma? She knew better. Numerous times had she found herself adopting the very same tone as the one spoken by the regal woman sat mere inches away from her. The facade was nearly perfect, but the cracks traced the boundaries of self-loathing - a kind of loathing that wrenched her heart from the safety of ribcages, lodging itself brutally in her tightened throat at the simple recognition of it.

"But you do though. Everything you've done, every course of action you felt you had to take, it was all fueled by love, not by a lack of it."

_Deep breaths. _

"Everyone always thought that you cast the curse because you hated Snow for indirectly causing Daniel's death." She pushed on. "The dark curse? It was what you thought could finally avenge him after all those years. But that's just a part of it, isn't it? The reasons for what you did run deeper than that."

Regina sat in silent contemplation, heart thumping in lieu with the minutes that flitted on by.

"I was young and impressionable," she finally spoke, "and all I have ever wanted was just to love and be loved in return. I never sought out power or riches - those were solely the desires of my mother. And then Snow came along, and together with my mother, they tore me from the life I had. Granted, Cora was ruthless with a penchant for magical whips and restraint. But it was nothing compared to having to capitulate entirely to an elderly King three times my age. Add to that the grief I was feeling over Daniel's death? It was too much."

She forced the syllables out, fighting the trembles that lingered on the edge of clenched letters.

"But you loved her despite all that, right?" Emma whispered, "Snow, and your mother. The two of them. Despite everything they had done to you, you loved them and it caused you more pain than you can handle. I don't necessarily understand what exactly went on in your world, but I understand that kind of pain. You loved them, despite not wanting to, and that just paved the way for that immense anger you felt. Look, I'm not applauding or justifying your actions. I'm just saying that maybe, this was what you thought was your only way out from feeling what you wish you didn't feel."

Regina gasped at the notion Emma was putting forth, at the new perspective that eluded minds young and old. All her life, she had long succumbed to people thinking that hatred was the iron fist behind every decision she made. She had never once considered the complexity that lay behind anger - the idea that anger was a defensive emotion she turned to in a bid for self-preservation, the thought that anger could even be an unfortunate byproduct of a love she wished she did not harbor.

It was overwhelming and staggeringly unexpected, especially coming from the Sheriff that understood her in ways she never thought possible. It stole her breath - in minute puffs, in deep intakes of air that suffused every last inch of her body, in bone-crunching revelations that lightened her soul and fought to slice through the black veil that strangled her mind.

Chocolate eyes latched once again onto emerald ones, basking in the sincerity that radiated from the younger woman. Perhaps it was the intense magnetism between two souls who had seen the worst the worlds had to offer. Perhaps it was the compelling nature of two individuals who saw the best in each other's darkened souls. Or perhaps, it was the wisps of purple and white that mingled around delicate heartstrings since the dawn of time.

With just a moment's hesitation, Emma leaned forward, pressing soft lips to the saccharine ones of Regina in a chaste kiss, lingering for just a second as purple and white wrapped itself around plush hearts, embedding the faintest traces of magic in flowing bloodstreams.

"You should take a shower while I make us breakfast."

With a final puff of purple, Emma found herself left alone with thoughts as to what the hell just happened swirling through her mind. She glanced down instinctively, eyes widening at the faint white glow lightly pulsating from opened palms - a glow that matched the increasingly rapid thumping of her swooning heart.

_Holy shit. That felt like magic._

* * *

Slender fingers gripped the wrought-iron pan, the heavenly smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the air of the opulent mansion. Regina's mind was whirling at what had just occurred, completely overwhelmed by the sensations she felt when the blonde leaned in to press soft lips against her own.

_We kissed. We kissed. We kissed. _

It was unexpected, yes, but what startled her the most was not the kiss in itself. No, what truly astonished her was feeling traces of magic course through her blood, fusing with her own, the very moment their lips made contact. For someone so versed in the magical arts, Regina was wholly aware of branches of magic she had previously ignored, resigned to the idea that such magic stood beyond her grasp.

She thought back to all the times Emma went above and beyond her title as Storybrooke's resident Savior, pulling her time and time again away from the cruel grips of impending death. She especially remembered the way the blonde shoved her away from the Wraith, completely disregarding her personal safety in the process. It was utterly unnerving for her, having someone place her well-being above their own. Regardless, she could not help but feel a strange kind of comforting warmth surge through her blood at the mere thought of it.

In the grand scheme of things though, Regina knew that her newfound fondness for Emma extended beyond the heroic deeds and the oftentimes rather impulsive selflessness.

It was the little things as well, woven discretely in the most mundane of day-to-day interactions. From the electrically-charged looks to the subtle smiles, from the intense sincerity in emerald eyes to the way words became redundant when they were in the presence of one another. Even when they fought, with cutting remarks and bare fists, there was always that underlying understanding between them, both able to see past the titles thrust upon the other.

And then there was the way they made magic together. When Emma's fingers curled around her bicep, the intensity of magic that infiltrated her veins managed to finally jumpstart Jefferson's hat. Regina had never felt nor witnessed something like that before that day. It certainly intrigued her, to say the least.

_Emma made her stronger, stronger than she had ever felt in this land. Perhaps…_

Her thoughts drifted to the magic of interwoven cores. Two hearts that were once whole, split and stored snugly in two separate people. These hearts lay dormant, only to be awakened by the breath of someone in possession of its other half. Some people go through lifetimes never finding the other half of their heart, and in some cases, that other half simply does not exist. It was magic of the most powerful kind, the kind of magic that could transcend realms, the kind of magic that could render concepts of time and space completely irrelevant.

_Could it be? _

Even the thought of it frightened her a little. It was more than the notion that she had ventured into realms of magic unexplored in all her years of study with Rumpelstiltskin. Rather, it was the implications that came along with the magic of interwoven cores - the staggering indication that Emma might, after all, be her true love.

_Love is weakness. _

Cora's voice began its incessant echo inside the throes of her mind, urging on fiends that dwelled within, fanning the flames of doubt and harrowing fear. All her life, especially following Daniel's tragic demise, Regina had taken heed of her mother's favorite phrase, opting to build walls, steering herself to the throngs of a crueler fate instead. Even the word itself threatened to invoke trepidation in her; love was a burden, a transient illusion of happiness that lead to suffering, death, even. Or so she thought.

And then, Regina started picturing the family she had. Henry, even Emma. She was still hesitant to call whatever feelings she harbored for Emma love, but with Henry, she was sure. Love. It took an incredible amount of bravery to let someone tear down the walls she had built, letting them into her life, into her heart. It took a immense leap of faith, protecting and allowing herself to be protected by another, entrusting that they truly had her best interest at heart.

It took courage to love, to actively choose it, to defend it no matter the cost.

_Maybe, just maybe, it's strength. _

Before she could ponder more on the subject at hand, Regina heard footsteps, followed by a tangled mess of gorgeous blonde hair that seemed to emanate a light of its own. She pointed to an empty seat at the table, watching the Sheriff plop down on it without a tinge of hesitation. Breakfast was a silent affair, neither woman able to formulate coherent enough sentences to break the enveloping stillness that permeated the air.

Clinks of metal on porcelain, thuds of glasses on wooden coasters, gentle gulps that echoed through the spotless foyer, and it was more than Emma could bear.

"Let me take you to this stream."

"What?"

"There's a stream nearby. It's beautiful, especially at this time of the year. Let me take you there."

* * *

"What do you think it's like in the world after this one?"

Regina queried, smooth tones fluttering through the melodious backdrop of lightly streaming water. The two women lay atop velvety mats conjured by the older woman, basking in the zephyr that tickled exposed skin as the afternoon sun illuminated delicate features. It had been a serene hour, conversation flowing seamlessly as they recounted stories of their travels in unfamiliar lands - the Enchanted Forest for Emma, and Storybrooke for Regina when she arrived here all those decades ago.

Emma propped herself up on bony elbows the second Regina uttered that question, rotating her body to face the older woman, a frown immediately marring her face.

"Regina, I know I said this before, but there's got to be another way. You can't just give up like that." The plea in her voice was painfully unmistakable.

"This is not simply a matter of me opting to give up, Emma. There is a death curse embedded in me, and I'm pretty certain the word 'death curse' is self-explanatory as to what its ultimate effects will be."

"There's always a way to break curses! What about Mr Gold? He might have a way."

"No, he doesn't."

The resignation in her voice was uncanny. Emma shook her head, willing to force alarming thoughts of defeat out of herself, and by extension, Regina's mind.

"What about that magical lake with healing properties? There's gotta be something. Some spell perhaps. Or maybe some way to extract the curse from you. Or maybe some…"

"Emma!" Regina implored, gulping fresh air into weighted lungs. "We created a curse that would ensure death. It was precautionary in nature, but we felt that it was of absolute necessity at the time. Magic always comes with a price. I took a risk, and I do not for a second regret doing what I did."

"Regina…"

The Queen shot a glare at the younger woman. There was not a tinge of hostility to be found in chocolate eyes. Instead, dark orbs spoke volumes of something else, something gentler, something that looked incredibly like a wish for peace - an equanimity after all those tiresome years of fighting battles both with external armies and with inner demons. Of course, Emma understood. It has always been that way with Regina, even in the silence, there was understanding and then there was acceptance.

And so, Emma swallowed the retort bubbling in the back of her throat, willing herself to recover her typical sangfroid honed from years of being a bail-bondsperson. Knowing Regina as well as she did, she was aware that should she press on, the woman would only shut her off, preferring solitude to a barrage of what seemed to be improbable solutions being thrown her direction. She knew that now, more than ever, Regina needed someone to be by her side, and Emma was adamant that that person would be her.

_Deep breaths. _

"Honestly? I think it'd be beautiful." Emma acquiesced, steadying her voice and the tumultuous emotions churning inside her. "I mean, they always say it gets worse before it finally gets better, right? This world, and probably the one you're from as well, you can't deny it's pretty messed up. You pick up the newspaper and you see reports and reports of wars, of brutal crimes. There's just so much shit going on, you know, and it sucks."

She offered a small smile to the brunette, losing herself in the world that comprised just the two of them at that very moment.

"But, sometimes, life throws you a curveball. I wished that I didn't have to be alone on my birthday, and then Henry showed up. He brought me here, to Storybrooke. More than anything though, he brought me home. After all those years, growing up seeing all the horrible bits of the world, I've found my family - my parents, Henry, you. I've never felt more at home."

"I think it's life giving us a preview of what's to come." Emma sniffled, smiling softly. "Maybe we had to go through all the pain and hurt in this world. It's how we grow, it's how we learn to be better, it's how we learn to love. And when we're finally at that point, we'll move on to a prettier world worthy of all that growth and love. I think it'll feel like freedom."

So lost in verbalizing her thoughts, Emma almost failed to notice dainty fingers brushing against the back of her hand. Glancing down at the brunette laying on silken mats, she became awestruck by the tranquility that adorned exquisite features. She directed a gentle smile at Regina, tentatively tangling pale fingers with olive toned ones, before laying back down beside her. Emma's smile widened the instant she saw a similar one mirrored in the face of the other woman, the woman she had never imagined she would someday share such a moment with.

And yet, there they were.

An hour ticked on by, and then another. Both women were beginning to drift off when Regina spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence they had settled into.

"Emma, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For the life you had to go through."

"Regina, you don't have to do this."

"Let me say this, please?" Regina turned towards Emma, reaching out to tuck stray blonde locks behind her ears. "I'm sorry for the life you had to go through. I externalized my pain, and you, more than anyone else, were forced to bear the brunt of it. I can never fully regret what I did because the curse brought me Henry, and he is the light that kept me going through all those dark days. But I feel immensely guilty for putting you through all that pain. You deserve better, so much better, and I'm sorry. With all my heart."

Emma tightened her grip on Regina's hand, keeping their fingers interlocked. She reached out with her other hand, scooting closer to the brunette, brushing away the tears that cascaded down Regina's wet cheeks.

"I forgive you."

And there it was. Three words, and Regina felt as if her heart was a caged bird that had finally been set free. She looked, as she always did, straight into emerald, overcome with gratitude and warmth.

_And something else. _

Regina inched forward until she was flush against the other woman, the two of them reveling in the heat that emanated from the other. With one last glance at Emma, Regina closed the gap between them, pressing plush lips against lush ones. Soft lips glided against each other, spurred on by pounding hearts and cresting emotions. When Emma swiped her tongue delicately against sweet lips, Regina parted to give her access, mouths melting and melding with each other.

That was when they both felt it - the pure, unadulterated essence of magic fusing and coalescing through their bodies, purple and white, white and purple. Emma broke the kiss, eyes widening as a sudden thought sprang through her mind.

"What about our magic? I know you felt that too. Maybe, together, we're strong enough."

She nodded, trying to cement the thoughts in her own mind, to affirm herself that what she said might be true. Raising her eyes to meet the ones of the brunette, Emma faltered as she saw the slight frown that formed on the older woman.

"Do you know what that was?"

Her voice was no louder than a whisper, almost as if she was afraid that she would startle the magic that danced in the air around them.

"Yes, I think I do."

"Regina, you can tell me."

Emma placed a slender finger on Regina's chin, tilting her face up so that their eyes could meet once more. It took ten minutes of silent contemplation before she spoke. And when the words came, they flowed, mellifluous syllables meandering through the charged air like perfect melodies on moonlit nights.

"Does this mean that you're my…"

"It seems so."

Neither were ready to say the words, especially after the harsh life they both had gone through.

"Wait. But this is the most powerful magic of all, right?"

"I know what you're thinking." Regina breathed out the words, still mere inches away from the blonde. "Sometimes magic works in different, yet still very much wondrous, ways. What you have to understand, is that this magic isn't necessarily about tethering someone to this world. It's about letting go when it's time, and being content with the knowledge that you'd find each other in the next world, and in all the worlds after that."

"But isn't there…"

It came on as swiftly as a coursing river. Regina felt the flames erupting from the depth of her ribcage, the blood flowing through her arteries seemingly congealing into something akin to a flawless coagulation of bloodied pearls. The pain lasted only momentarily, then it was gone. And their magic might not ever be strong enough to eradicate the death curse, but at least for a while, it was enough to fight against the pain that threatened to wreck havoc on her body.

Regina looked up into pained emerald eyes, allowing the blonde to pull her into a tight embrace. She rubbed soothing circles on Emma's back, both women prying themselves apart just in time to watch the sky paint itself in brilliant hues of pink, orange, and yellow.

"Let's go home."


End file.
